for France, so he lets them come close up to Paris, so as to do for
them at a single blow, and to rise to the highest height of genius in
the biggest battle that ever was fought, a mother of battles! But the
Parisians wanting to save their trumpery skins, and afraid for their
twopenny shops, open their gates and there is a beginning of the
_ragusades_, and an end of all joy and happiness; they make a fool of
the Empress, and fly the white flag out at the windows. The Emperor's
closest friends among his generals forsake him at last and go over to
the Bourbons, of whom no one had ever heard tell. Then he bids us
farewell at Fontainebleau:

"Soldiers!" . . . I can hear him yet, we were all crying just like
children; the Eagles and the flags had been lowered as if for a
funeral. Ah! and it was a funeral, I can tell you; it was the funeral
of the Empire; those smart armies of his were nothing but skeletons
now. So he stood there on the flight of steps before his chateau, and
he said:

"Children, we have been overcome by treachery, but we shall meet
again up above in the country of the brave. Protect my child, I leave
him in your care. _Long live Napoleon II._!"

He had thought of killing himself, so that no one should behold
Napoleon after his defeat; like Jesus Christ before the Crucifixion,
he thought himself forsaken by God and by his talisman, and so he took
enough poison to kill a regiment, but it had no effect whatever upon
him. Another marvel! he discovered that he was immortal; and feeling
sure of his case, and knowing that he would be Emperor for ever, he
went to an island for a little while, so as to study the dispositions
of those folk who did not fail to make blunder upon blunder. Whilst he